love

Choosing God who is choosing you

God wants your time. He doesn’t want your time because he is greedy or selfish, but because he wants you. He wants to connect with you and have a relationship with you, and he can’t do that unless you give him your time. 

In truth, it was never your time anyway. You did not bring your life into being and you do not decide when it comes to an end. Every breath, every heartbeat, and every moment of your life is the graced gift from God. 

But God will never force himself on you. You have the will and right to choose other than God from moment to moment. He loves you so much, however, and knows that choosing other than him is not what is best for you, that he wants nothing more than for you to choose him because he is always choosing you. 

Robert Van Valkenburgh
Grappling With Divinity

To read my poetry and shorter writing, please visit Meditations of a Gentle Warrior and subscribe to receive my daily meditations in your inbox. 

These are the only moments like this that we get together

Sometimes, all of the things my daughter needs from me can feel like a nuisance or a burden. Sometimes, she asks too many questions and I just want some quiet so that I can do my work. Sometimes, I don’t want to listen to Taylor Swift or Blackpink in the car. 

But then I remember that someday, my daughter won’t need me anymore or at least not as often. Someday, she’ll live on her own and won’t be around to ask me questions all of the time. Someday, I’ll be driving in the car by myself missing her and wishing I could have this time back even if it means listening to Taylor Swift or Blackpink on repeat for hours at a time. 

Sometimes I get frustrated with my daughter or impatient with her. I’m only human and I have a limited amount of energy and attention, and sometimes I give so much to others or to my work that I have very little left for my daughter. But then I’m reminded just how fleeting these moments are, and just how precious they are. 

These are the only moments like this that we get together. God willing, there will be more moments together, but these are the only moments like this. And we don’t them back. What we get is what we get. There are no do-overs and there is no rewind button on life. Every single interaction is unique and special, and I can either push them away or embrace them

Someday, my she will ask me for a piggyback ride for the last time. Someday, she will ask me to do her hair, to take her to a school dance, and to put her to bed for the last time. For these reasons, and many more, I pray to treat every time like the most important time. I thank God for my little girl every day and I’m beyond grateful that I get to spend the time with her that I do. I know it will not last forever and that makes me appreciate her even more. 

Robert Van Valkenburgh
Grappling With Divinity

To read my poetry and shorter writing, please visit Meditations of a Gentle Warrior and subscribe to receive my daily meditations in your inbox. 

Being upset on behalf of others only makes matters worse

Something I have noticed over the past year or so is that a lot of my spiritual and emotional unrest occurs on behalf of others. I have porous emotional boundaries and, when someone around me is upset about something, I find myself getting upset about it as well. It’s not even that they are asking me to be upset. I just take it upon myself. 

Ever since I can remember, even if I don’t act like it, I’ve been extremely sensitive to the thoughts and feelings of those around me. I can feel what others are feeling and it affects me deeply. While this sensitivity may be useful at times, it is also a hindrance to my own peace and emotional integrity. 

I don’t know how or why I developed this sensitivity to the feelings of others. At some point in my life, I’m sure it served as a defense mechanism of some sort. If I could sense what others were feeling before they acted on it, if I could anticipate their needs, I could then either defuse a potentially volatile situation or protect myself from whatever was coming my way. 

The problem is that I can’t shut this sensitivity off. It’s like my emotional feelers are turned up to ten all of the time and it’s exhausting. If I’m around people who are happy, it makes me happier. If I’m around people who are at peace, I’m more peaceful. If I’m around people who are hurt or angry, I’m also hurt or angry.

For this reason, I often crave solitude in order to recharge. If I’m going to be around others, I prefer the intimate company of one or two people at a time. Or, if I have to be around a lot of people, I need to know that there is a way out in case I get overwhelmed or overstimulated. 

Where I run into trouble, however, is when someone close to me is angry, hurt, or disturbed by something. Whatever they feel, I feel it too. If they are mad about something or at someone, I find myself feeling the same way, even if I wasn’t mad before. If they are hurt or saddened, I become hurt or saddened as well. It’s not even helpful. In fact, it tends to make things worse. 

My being upset on someone else’s behalf, when they didn’t even ask me to be, has caused me way more grief than gain. It has gotten me into arguments and fights I had no business in and it has cost me a lot of joy and peace. This is not something I’m proud of, but I used to be. 

I used to think that I was doing other people a favor by getting upset on their behalf. I was their ally and I was fighting for them so they should be grateful. As it turns out, however, amplifying negativity doesn’t improve anyone’s life, least of all my own. 

I’m not entirely sure what the solution is, but I know that I’m not solving any problems by getting upset. In fact, I have made many situations and relationships much worse by adding to the conflict instead of being an example of peace and harmony amidst it. In some circumstances, it has cost me or nearly cost me important friendships. 

I know that Jesus expects more from me than this. Being sensitive, being empathetic, is not, in and of itself, a bad thing. In fact, it is kind of a superpower. Like all superpowers, however, it can either be used for good or for evil. Jesus loves me exactly as I am, but he also commands that I “be perfect, therefore, as [my] heavenly Father is perfect (Matthew 5:48, NIV)” which means that if this trait is causing me problems, I must be willing to “cut it off (Matt 5:30).” 

Robert Van Valkenburgh
Grappling With Divinity

To read my poetry and shorter writing, please visit Meditations of a Gentle Warrior and subscribe to receive my daily meditations in your inbox. 

Resentment is an attempt to deny someone else salvation

Resentments are like a wedge in our hearts. They separate us from God and our fellows. In fact, resentments are an attempt to play God by not accepting what has happened as being in accordance with his will. By holding onto a resentment against someone else, we are essentially saying that we have the right to withhold love from them, that we have the power to withhold mercy from them, and that we have the desire to withhold salvation from them. 

In this way, holding onto a resentment against someone is an attempt to cut them off from God. It is to deny them love, mercy, and forgiveness. And this, according to Jesus is tantamount to murder. “You have heard that it was said to the people long ago, ‘You shall not murder, and anyone who murders will be subject to judgment.’” he said, “But I tell you that anyone who is angry with a brother or sister will be subject to [the same] judgment [as one who has actually committed murder] (Matt 5:21-22).” 

When we are angry, we forget that only God has the power to withhold salvation. Only God has the authority to withhold mercy. And no matter what a person does, God never stops loving them. These are his gifts to give and we can do nothing to deserve or to earn them. They are freely given and we are free to accept or deny them. What we are not free to do, however, is to deny love, mercy, or for someone else, for we are not God. 

On the contrary, Jesus said, “Love your enemies, bless those who curse you, do good to those who hate you, and pray for those who persecute you (Matthew 5:43-44, NIV).” He commands that, no matter the harm and no matter how many times we are hurt or offended, we are to forgive “not seven times, but seventy-seven times (Matt 18:21-22).” To hold a resentment, therefore, is not only to play God, but also to reject his teachings and deny his authority. 

Tragically, in our imperfection, in our flaws and brokenness, we are going to fall short of Jesus’s commandments. We will not always “Love the Lord God with all our heart… soul and… mind.” Nor will we always “Love [our] neighbor[s] as [ourselves] (Matt 22:37-39).” But we can pray. 

When we find ourselves being resentful toward someone, we can confess it to God and another person. We can pray and ask God to forgive us and help us show this person forgiveness, love, and mercy. And we can “go and be reconciled with them (Matt 5:23)” so that we can approach God with a open heart and a clean conscience. 

Robert Van Valkenburgh
Grappling With Divinity

To read my poetry and shorter writing, please visit Meditations of a Gentle Warrior and subscribe to receive my daily meditations in your inbox. 

Keeping my mind on God instead of on not-God

If I’m being honest, most of my waking hours are spent on not-God. Meaning, most of my time and attention is spent on concerns that feel separate from my conscious connection with God. I think, actually I know, that this is true for most people. But this is not the goal. This is not the direction in which I am headed. This is not my destiny. 

The goal is to give more of my time and attention to God than I give to not-God. The goal is to “Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for [me] (1 Thessalonians 5:16-18, NIV).” This is the direction in which I am headed. This is my destiny. 

Prayer, however, must be practiced. It must be something toward which effort is put. And if one hopes to reap the benefits of prayer, it must be done consciously, sincerely, and faithfully. 

In the good times and the bad, upon awakening and when we retire at night, and all throughout the day, if we want to have a conscious contact with God, we must return to prayer as often as we can with the goal of, eventually, remaining in prayer regardless of our circumstances. 

Jesus wants us to “Remain in [him], as [he] also remains in [us]. No branch can bear fruit by itself; it must remain in the vine. Neither can [we] bear fruit unless [we] remain in [Jesus] (John 15:4).” For some people, perpetual consciousness of God may happen all at once, in an instant, but for most of us, it requires discipline and dedication. We must constantly remind ourselves to return to prayer and to return to God. 

This is an honorable task, however. In fact, it is the most honorable task. It is the greatest commandment of them all, to “Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind (Matthew 22:37),” according to Jesus. 

The late, great teacher of centering prayer, Father Thomas Keating, often told a story wherein a nun at one of his workshops lamented, “Father Thomas, I’m such a failure at centering prayer. In twenty minutes I’ve had ten thousand thoughts!”

“How lovely,” responded Keating, in his ever kind and joyful tone. “Ten thousand opportunities to return to God.”

This returning to God is the practice. It’s not easy, but if we are to develop and maintain a conscious contact with God, it is necessary. Prayer is the good work of loving God, and the more we pray, the more our time will be spent with our minds on God rather than with our minds on not-God. 

Robert Van Valkenburgh
Grappling With Divinity

To read my poetry and shorter writing, please visit Meditations of a Gentle Warrior and subscribe to receive my daily meditations in your inbox. 

Marriage is a constant reminder of how imperfect my love is

Marriage is a constant reminder of how imperfect my love is. It is anything but unconditional. I give love and take it away for so many reasons. It’s frustrating and painful, both for me and the people I claim to love. 

I was not always like this and I’ve gotten much better in recent years, but I have a long way to go. I don’t know at what point I started using my love as a psychological-emotional weapon, but I assume it was somewhere in my teenage years. Now, some thirty years later, it’s actually a great point of shame for me. 

For a long time, I honestly didn’t know how petty, spiteful, and cruel I could be. It took having someone who vowed to never leave me and who was unwilling to settle for any less than my best to point it out to me. There’s something really powerful about the commitment of marriage that has forced me to look at myself. 

When two people take a solemn oath that, for better worse, richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, they will remain faithful and steadfast to one another, and they really mean it, it brings not only the best out in them, but also the worst. In a truly committed relationship, there is no hiding. Marriage forces you to look at yourself. 

I am fortunate enough to have married someone who feels as strongly about commitment as I do. When we took our vows, we meant it. That means we have to make it work. I think this is some small part of what God had in mind when he gave Adam and Eve to one another, and when he said that a married couple becomes “one flesh (Genesis 2:24.” The intimacy of oneness forces us to look at and get rid of the things that do not serve the relationship. 

So much of who I am and who I was before I met my wife is based on the survival mechanisms I developed over the years from being hurt, disappointed, betrayed, abandoned, and whatever else you can think of that would make a person cold, withdrawn, and selfish. Somehow, my wife saw through all of this baggage and was able to glean the deeper truth of who I am enough to want to spend the rest of her life with me. Some days it still baffles me. 

But like I said, I was not always like this. I remember being a kid and being cheerful, optimistic, and kind. While I didn’t really fit in anywhere (in middle school, I finally found a group of friends who also didn’t fit in and we were inseparable) and that confused me a great deal, I remained relatively enthusiastic and curious about life. Somewhere along the line, however, I suppose I was hurt one too many times by people that were supposed to or said they loved me, and I became cynical, guarded, and bitter. 

My entire adult life has largely been defined by the outgrowing of this negativity, or rather the returning to innocence, albeit in a more mature way, of my childhood. The lessons, however, have not come easily. I have ruined many relationships along the way and I have nearly ruined my marriage on several occasions. 

One of the main problems is that I tend to use my affection as a weapon. It’s not malicious way. It’s often not even intentional. But when I’m hurt, I withdraw and shut down, and when I do, I take my love with me. 

It doesn’t help that I’m extremely sensitive and, therefore, easily hurt, and that my wife is not the type of person to hold back her feelings or pull punches with her opinions. Well, maybe it does help because she has the unique ability to bring out the worst in me so that I change for the better. But the combination of her directness and my sensitivity creates a tension that leaves me nowhere to hide. Even if I tried hiding, she wouldn’t let me anyway. 

All of this makes it very difficult to deny my shortcomings. I have seen, over the years of trying to make our relationship work, how what were once my survival skills, the things that kept me safe in my past life, are actually tools of destruction in my marriage. When I withdraw and withhold my love from my wife, it hurts both of us because it hurts the relationship and we are not two, but one. 

This all struck me the other day when I was meditating on Jesus’s love for us. It occurred to me that, no matter what was done to Jesus, he never withdrew his love. He never shut down. He never stopped caring. He never tried to manipulate others by threatening them with emotional absence. 

Jesus was betrayed, beaten, crucified, mocked, and left to die alone on the cross, and yet he never stopped loving us. In fact, throughout all of this torture and torment, he prayed for us. And here I am, loved beyond measure and beyond understanding by a merciful, gracious God who sent his own son to die for my sinful thoughts, words, and deeds, a God who has never once withdrawn his love from me, not even for a second, and I have the arrogance to keep my love to myself when my feelings get hurt. 

It is humbling and baffling just how selfish and broken I really am. I am, however, willing to change. I pray for it daily. I want to have the kind of love for my wife, my family, and my fellows that Jesus has for me. I want to be as generous and forgiving as God has been and continues to be for me. 

It’s an impossible task, but trying, with God’s help, is better than the alternative. In fact, Jesus himself said that I must. I must “love as he has loved me (John 13:34)” and to “be perfect (Matthew 5:48)” What greater purpose is there than this anyway, to love and serve God and my fellows? 

Robert Van Valkenburgh
Grappling With Divinity

To read my poetry and shorter writing, please visit Meditations of a Gentle Warrior and subscribe to receive my daily meditations in your inbox. 

The resistance is like a church bell ringing in my soul

I’m supposed to be writing my graduate school admission essay, but it’s hard. It’s hard because it matters. It’s hard because it’s personal. It’s hard because it’s about me and that brings up all of my fears, insecurities, and self doubt. 

Doing something like this brings me face to face with the stories I tell myself about my worth and my worthiness, about what it means to be accepted, and about what it means to be loved and received as I am, not as I pretend to be. 

Writing about myself, why I want this, and why I am the right candidate and this is the right school for me terrifies me because it exposes me. It exposes me because I refuse to give them only part of me. I don’t know how, and that’s not what they are asking for. It terrifies me because, if I give them all of me, what if that is not good enough? 

This fear, this paralyzing, mind-numbing, soul-shaking fear is how I know it’s important. It’s how I know it’s real. It’s how I know that I have to do it. The fear tells me where to go, even if I don’t want to go there, even if I hate the feeling of moving forward. 

The resistance is like a church bell ringing in my soul. It won’t leave me alone. It calls to me. It draws me nearer. It’s an inevitability. With every passing day and every toll of the bell, I can feel the pull toward the work that I must do. Even as I write this, seemingly in avoidance of the call, it has brought me one step closer to finishing the hard work of facing myself. 

Robert Van Valkenburgh
Grappling With Divinity

To read my poetry and shorter writing, please visit Meditations of a Gentle Warrior and subscribe to receive my daily meditations in your inbox. 

No one is above God and no one is beneath us

I’ve been reminded a lot lately of why we cannot rely on human power where only God’s power will do. Making false idols out of people doesn’t work. We are imperfect, broken creatures in need of salvation. Not one of us is beyond error or shortcomings. No matter how hard we try, we are destined to let one another down, to disappoint each other and to break one another’s hearts. If we don’t, it is purely by the grace of God. 

It is no wonder, when asked what the greatest commandment was, Jesus replied, “‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’ This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments (Matthew 22:37-40, NIV).” 

The first commandment, to “Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind” tells us to place all of our trust in God, to have no other Gods before him, and to always put God first, even above and ahead of our loved ones. It tells us not to make false idols out of other people. If we do, not only are we betraying God’s commandment, but we are also putting unreasonable expectations on others and setting ourselves up for disappointment. 

The second of Jesus’s greatest commandments, to “Love your neighbor as yourself” teaches us not to look down on others, to not hold ourselves up as false idols above them, and to treat them as God has treated us, with love, fairness, and mercy. This commandment to love our neighbors as we are demands that we treat our fellows as peers, as brothers and sisters, and that we never treat anyone like they are unredeemable or unforgivable because, through Christ Jesus, everyone has been forgiven and everyone is eligible for redemption if they so desire. 

These two commandments, given to us from our Lord and Savior, are in part about humility. They help us to remain right-sized in relation to God and our fellows. The first tells us not to look up to anyone in the way that we look up to God, and the second tells us not to look down on anyone as if we are God. No one is above God and no one is beneath us. We are all equal in the eyes of the Lord (Romans 2:11).

Robert Van Valkenburgh
Grappling With Divinity

To read my poetry and shorter writing, please visit Meditations of a Gentle Warrior and subscribe to receive my daily meditations in your inbox. 

A perfectly imperfect reminder of our perfect imperfections

A couple of years ago, my mother gave my daughter a four-pack of friendship bracelets. My daughter gave me one of them and somehow lost the other three. They were supposed to all say, “Best Friend,” which is kind of strange if you think about it. Is it really possible to have four best friends? We are lucky to have four good friends, let alone best friends. But that’s not really the point. 

Anyway, all four bracelets were supposed to say, “Best Friend,” but I noticed that the one my daughter gave me actually said, “Bsst Friend.” It took me a while to notice it, but when I did, I asked her about it and whether it had special meaning. My assumption was that it was meant to be that way. 

She told me that it was supposed to say, “Best Friend” and that “Bsst Friend” was a mistake. I told her that I loved it anyway and, in fact, I liked it even more because it was unique. “I bet no one else has a Bsst Friend bracelet from their daughter,” I said. Her response took me completely by surprise. 

She said, “I guess your bracelet is just like us.” 

“What do you mean?” I asked. 

“Well, it’s imperfect, but it’s still beautiful, just like we are still beautiful even though we are imperfect” she replied. “Nothing is really perfect anyway. So your bracelet is kind of like a reminder of that. Right, daddy?” 

“Yes, dear,” I responded. “No one and nothing is perfect except for God and, even though we do the best we can, we will always fall short. But that’s okay because we are still beautiful and God loves us even in our imperfectness. Thank you for the bracelet, my dear. I’ll wear my Bsst Friend bracelet proudly to remind me of you and how much I love you.” 

“I love you, daddy,” she said with a big smile and gave me a hug. 

I still wear my Bsst Friend bracelet quite often. I sometimes get funny looks because it’s a rainbow bracelet and I am a pretty big, rather imposing looking guy with a bald head, a beard, and signs of cauliflower ear from years of jiu-jitsu, even though I’m actually just a big, gentle panda. I think a lot of people assume it has some hidden meaning, and I suppose it does. 

Robert Van Valkenburgh
Grappling With Divinity

To read my poetry and shorter writing, please visit Meditations of a Gentle Warrior and subscribe to receive my daily meditations in your inbox. 

A wave of gratitude washed over me

Some days I am struck speechless by how fortunate I am, not because of any one particular thing or any specific aspect of my life, but because of all of it. I am awe struck by how generous and gracious God has been and continues to be to me, in spite of the fact that I absolutely do not deserve it. 

The little bit of faith and faithfulness that I bring to my relationship with God has been repaid a hundred times over, especially when compared to all of my sin and selfishness. God is truly great. He is merciful, loving, and patient, and he keeps his promises. 

Tonight was just one of those nights when it hit me all at once just how amazing the life God has given me truly is and how grateful I am for it. My day was not particularly easy or even special. In fact, it was a pretty normal Wednesday for me. 

I woke up, made my daughter breakfast, and sat down for my prayer hour. I read some scripture, read a few chapters from some spiritual books that I’m in the middle of, sat in silent prayer for twenty minutes, and wrote my daily spiritual poem. After that, I had my weekly call with a friend for whom I’ve been a spiritual director for many years, and then I went to speak at a local club for people trying to recover from alcoholism. 

When I got home from my speaking commitment, I had lunch, sat down to check on my graduate school application, and listened to a talk on the Carmelite spirituality of St. Theresa of Avila and St. John of the Cross. Then I took a brief nap before getting my daughter from the bus stop, having lunch with her and her mother, and getting us both ready for jiu-jitsu class. 

A couple of days a week, before teaching my adult class, I teach a small semi-private jiu-jitsu lesson to my daughter and several of her teammates. They are great kids who listen well, love to learn, and don’t mind working hard. Teaching them and watching them grow in both jiu-jitsu and life has become one of the most unexpected bright spots of my life. 

Everything tends to move pretty quickly from there. I teach the kids, then I teach the adults, and then I rush my daughter and I back home to shower, have dinner, and get ready for bed. Every week, on this particular night, as her mother puts her to sleep, I host a Zoom meeting for people who have had or are seeking a spiritual experience in order to overcome alcoholism. It was in this meeting that a wave of gratitude came washing over me. 

None of the things that happened in my life today, absolutely none of them, were things that I ever dreamed of or wished for in my previous life. If you would have told my younger self that this was what my Wednesday would be like as a forty-six year old, not only would I have not believed you, but I would have turned and run the other way. And yet here I am, completely awestruck by this amazing, full life I have today. 

I literally got to spend all day going deeper into my relationship with God and helping other people. What could better? What more could I possibly ask for? It’s as if God has given me a little glimpse of heaven right here in this life. I’m not sharing any of this to brag or boast. This is neither a point of pride nor vanity for me. 

I’m sharing this because I absolutely do not deserve it. I’m sharing it to give glory to God because, without him, none of this would be possible. Left to my own devices, not only would I not have this life and these amazing opportunities for service, but if I did have them, I wouldn’t appreciate them and I would most likely ruin them. 

This is me giving praise to the one who makes the broken whole, who gives sight to the blind, and who allows the lame to walk. God has given me so much and I have given him so little. All I have to offer him is my faith, my trust, and my service, but without him, I’d even mess that up. What an amazing God he is!

Robert Van Valkenburgh
Grappling With Divinity

To read my poetry and shorter writing, please visit Meditations of a Gentle Warrior and subscribe to receive my daily meditations in your inbox.